Beastly
by Sensical Deficit
Summary: The Fera was a convenient ally; she was Loki's last resort. But no one knew better to never trust a beast than the liesmith himself.
1. Servitude

The Natura were the earthly protectors of old; the Mater, the Tempest, and the Fera. For centuries had the mother of the earth worked alongside her daughters to sustain their namesake, without peril or decline. Yet, the mortals held only two of the guardians in high regard. There was no more compassionate than the Mater, and no more powerful than the Tempest, but the Fera was no more than a beast. She stalked the night, treading ground with her creatures alone. There was no need for her to present herself to the mortals; no need for a public display. And, until that fateful night, she had been entirely transparent to their eyes. It had been then that the mortals had realised the true face of the beast was not one to be provoked. And they _had_ provoked her, poking and prodding at the beast with their filthy ignorance until the Fera was entirely consumed.

One hundred and seventy-six people were slaughtered that night.

By both her family and the leaders of the nine realms, the Fera was exiled. She was _never_ to set foot on the soils of earth again, nor of any other land atop Yggdrasil. She left without quarrel or qualm, and made her home in the darkest corner of the universe, never to be seen again.

Although, fate rarely sided with the gods.

* * *

The god of mischief was stood on foreign ground, in a place where the stars dared not shine. He had brought light with him, however unintentional. Quite distinctly, he recalled his mother telling him as a child that the light within could prevail in the gloom of lesser travelled worlds, though he was in no mind to feel nostalgic or sentimental. He knew what little light there was left of him.

"You have travelled far."

The voice came sailing through the still air like a harsh whisper, from an opening in a rugged wall of stone. It stung his ears to hear, and for a moment he pondered leaving whilst the opportunity still presented itself. He understood that there was little hope for him, should the source of the voice emerge from the cave.

"I have come to pledge allegiance, my lady," he proclaimed, his sights never once leaving the shadowed opening.

"I know why you have come, liesmith," said the voice, grating once more. "Your intentions are folly."

"My lady-"

"You seek to rule the Midgardian realm," it interrupted. "Do you take me for a _fool_, liesmith?"

"I harbour nothing but respect for the great Fera of Midgard."

"Do you lie to all those whom you respect?"

"I offer you power," he continued, choosing not to answer the question directly. "Once I am king, I propose that we rule the mortals together, my lady."

"I seek no power. It would suit me ill, as it would you."

"I offer you revenge."

"Nor do I seek vengeance, liesmith. Return home, whether it be Jotunheim or Asgard. I care not."

Loki exasperated, gesticulating wildly in his attempt to sway her, "The mortals ought to be punished for their wrongdoing! They mocked you for centuries! They created ghastly images and slaughtered your charge-"

"_I know what they did_!"

The opportunity had disappeared; Loki could almost physically see it, slipping out of his grasp. The Fera had emerged - he had _angered_ her. He, Loki, was the subject of her rage, and that was not what he wanted. Still, he could only watch as she slithered with an eerie grace from the cave, out of the purity of darkness and into his dim glow. He was the first to see the face of the Fera in centuries. It was a face that could have been beautiful, once, and if it had not that single, unsightly scar, tearing down her forehead and across the bridge of her nose, before curving under her lips and disappearing around the corner of her jaw. Between that, her yellow eyes, and her pointed teeth, he did not know where to look, and he remained soberly tense until the beast retreated, and the eyes and teeth of the Fera returned to a natural state. But that scar still lingered.

"You should not test me," she told him, her voice still cold yet less grating than before. "I have been known to lose my patience."

"As have I."

The Fera emitted a close-lipped laugh, though there was little humour in it. She began to circle him, then, as a predator would her prey. Small noises of consideration escaped her every so often, and Loki did not so much as twitch under her inspection. After a while, she settled in front of him once more, scrutinising his face with an expression he could not read. When she offered him a smile, however sinister, he relaxed slightly.

"You have come to recruit me, liesmith, not for the wrongdoings against myself, but those against you. Wrongdoings, I might add, which have very little to do with mortals. And so I must ask _why_; _why_ does a prince of Yggdrasil choose to substitute his father for several billion lesser beings to accomplish his personal vendetta?"

"It is not a matter of substitution."

"Is it not?" she asked, once again beginning to circle him. "But it _is_ him for whom you hold all of this resentment."

"I am a king," insisted Loki, yet came to regret it when the Fera halted and quirked an eyebrow. However, she simply smiled in her simpering way and continued after a moment. "I am being denied of my right to a throne."

"Ah, yes ... by Odin or by Laufey, you are an heir. Tell me, liesmith, why you do not return to Jotunheim, and rule your own people?" The Fera waited patiently, tilting her head in seeming anticipation, before she let out a loud laugh of mirth. "Oh, but the word travels! I know all that you have done, and all that you have tried to do. Whispers reach even these corners, liesmith ... whispers of your _deceit_."

"I do not deceive you, my-"

"Oh, we all know that I am no lady," she interjected. "My very name is an ancient Midgardian term for _beast_. They wrote tales of me, attested my likeness in their art. You do not question my nature, surely? You understand what I am? My exile was not unjust."

"This punishment is not justifiable," Loki disagreed, turning slowly with each step the Fera took. "After all the mortals did, they still reside on the earth that is rightfully yours, whilst you skirt the borders of the very universe, in darkness and seclusion."

"I was given a position of protection."

"And you honoured your position!" he exclaimed. The Fera had once again stopped, and was watching him inquisitively. He approached her, none too cautiously, so that there were mere inches between them, and when she showed no response he took a gentle hold of her chin. "You and I, my dear Fera, are the victims of misfortune and injustice. Redemption is beyond us." He traced his thumb over the line of the scar below her mouth. "But retribution is not."

He released her and turned to take his leave, walking too slowly for it to be anything other than deliberate. The Fera was wise, as he was very well aware, and would not be fooled by petty trickery or even his silver tongue. She wanted nothing from him, either, and so there was no offering to be made. And in all of his vanity, Loki almost believed himself victorious when the Fera's voice floated over his shoulder from several feet behind him.

"I am in your service."

* * *

I am in no right mind to be starting another story when I've already got _Wilson_ and _Normies _to work on, but the inspiration for this has been haunting me like a poltergeist for weeks.

However, my words are starting to flow again, and I am in dire of a creative sustenance in these boring times.


	2. Dominance

A chill haunted Asgard on the day that the god of mischief escaped captivity. The Allfather had deliberated for hours upon the return of his younger son, which punishment he should serve for his crimes. Death was an archetypal punishment for actions as severe as Loki's, and yet the Allfather had not the heart to call for it. Neither, it was clear, could he exile him from Asgard, for the fear that he would once again attempt to seek revenge at the expense of others. Unfortunately, whilst the Allfather wasted those hours with his assessment, the wretched son of Odin slipped away, unbound and ungagged, and out of the realm.

His wife had wept and his elder son had raged, yet the Allfather simply sat on his throne, calculating where Loki Laufeyson would go in such a desperate time, and what exactly he intended to achieve by doing so. The Chitauri were out of the question, as were most others who inhabited the worlds beyond the nine realms, having heard about the failure of his attack on Midgard. It seemed to the Allfather that there were few who would ally themselves with one such as Loki following his grievous circumstances, even more so now that the Midgardians had their own band of heroes - the Avengers, as they called themselves. And, despite their mortality, it was evident that they were not to be trifled with, especially when considering Thor's allegiance to the team.

The Allfather feared for Thor; he feared for his spirit. After all his brother had done, it was seeming to diminish before the very eyes of Asgard. The golden son of Odin lacked the joviality he had once possessed in the days when Loki had fought at his side. He rarely spoke of his brother to anyone any more.

_Never doubt that I love you_.

The words hurt him like a wound of vast depth. Loki was a liar. Thor wondered if he even remembered having spoken those words to him.

_I remember you tossing me into an abyss_.

Was that all he remembered? For if it was, his memory was as unreliable as his tongue. Loki's fall had been his own doing.

_Sentiment_.

Such a small weapon he had used, and in such a pathetic way. It barely pained him at all, but Loki's tears had agonised. He felt his heart break for his brother even then, even after he had so mercilessly killed dozens upon dozens of mortals. Had it been his claim to feel nothing?

_Sentiment_.

Liar.

* * *

"This is the real world."

Loki and the Fera were in lower Manhatten, standing atop a skyscraper and watching the city life unfold below. Vehicles were virtually stationary with all of the traffic, and there were a number of disagreements between mortals standing on the pavement. Some appeared to be speaking angrily into their communicative devices whilst others simply chose to do so directly. From the height, it was difficult to tell, but Loki was sure he witnessed a woman throw her hot beverage at another young lady when the conversation went awry.

"And what a mess it has become," said the Fera with a deep sigh. She observed a couple walking their dog with her keen eyes, which did not go unnoticed by Loki.

"It must bother you, to see them having domesticated your charges."

"So long as they care for them," she replied, folding her arms across her chest and watching the mortals and their pet disappear around a corner.

"Have they not stolen their liberty?"

"Are you not trying to steal theirs?" she countered, looking at him with a raised brow. "We are all of us animals. And there will always be an alpha. Man dominates this realm, as they always have."

"You believe that they always will?" he questioned, genuine intrigue carrying his tone. He waited for an answer, yet received none. "My lady?"

"Fera," she corrected him, harsh as a whip. "Or beast, which ever pleases you."

"I would not call you 'beast'."

"Why not? I call you 'liesmith'." She surveyed him briefly, then laughed. "Oh! You think me your alpha, liesmith?"

"You are older than I."

"You are a sorceror, raised by the gods."

"I was born, not made."

"And for that, you are beneath me?" The Fera laughed once again, this time turning her attention back to the roads below. "Do we truly argue about our dominance in this way? I would imagine you to be flattered that I consider you more powerful. Perhaps even relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yes. I am akin to animal kind, liesmith. I could smell your fear when you sought me out. It was ... potent."

Ashamed, Loki clasped his hands behind his back and started towards the other edge of the building. It was one thing for her to suspect his fear, but to actually _smell it_ was another entirely. He could not hide from her heightened senses, and that worried him.

"You need not be so anxious," she called over her shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Centuries may have passed, but I still recall the smell of fear more clearly than any other."

When Loki peered over his own edge, he could not help but marvel at how every side of the mortal city looked the same. More buildings, more traffic, more disagreements. The occasional pair of lovers walking hand in hand did not distract from the overall feeling of hostility in the atmosphere. He had to wonder if he could change anything, when he would rule. In fact, he had not so much as considered it until this point. What _would_ he do if he were king of this realm? It was his birthright to rule, and yet perhaps that was his only reason for wanting to. He had little interest in mortal affairs, and cared not for how they chose to live their lives. The thought made him frown.

"Is something wrong, my lord?"

Ah, yes. He knew, then. However patronising the title had sounded coming from the lips of the Fera, it swelled his pride to hear it. That was why he wished to be king. He wanted the feeling of elation that came with power and control. He wanted to be the image of light - not the shadow behind it.

But the Fera was a master of shadows.


	3. Perversion

"I thought that you guys were going to _deal with it_."

Director Fury was pacing around the room, deep within the heart of SHIELD headquarters, and surrounded by the six members of the Avengers Initiative, who had reassembled for the given crisis. Or, rather, what was perceived by SHIELD to be a crisis; Thor had maintained that the Earth was in no immediate danger of another assault by Loki quite yet, as his brother would presumably be in a 'weakened' state, and without any reinforcements.

"Loki has a level of intellect that even many Asgardians could never hope to achieve," said Thor, his arms folded across his broad chest.

"_Obviously_ ," seethed Fury.

"My people did as best they could!" insisted Thor, raising his voice.

"And that best wasn't good enough. Now, we have two power-hungry aliens roaming around New York City like it's―"

Thor interrupted him, then, repeating, "Two? Who is this second 'alien' of which you speak?"

"We were hoping that you could tell us," replied Agent Hill. Despite her current position, she appeared to be the most calm individual in the room, her stance and tone reasonable. She had suspected that Fury would lose his temper in the confrontation, and had accompanied him to the meeting. Of course, she believed that Fury's rage was entirely within reason, given how much responsibility lay upon his shoulders, and how the Council had reacted to Loki's previous attack on Manhatten. She continued to speak to Thor, "A woman was with him this morning. They were caught on camera outside Central Park."

Steve perked up his seat, and asked, "What were they doing?"

"Actually, nothing."

"Thor," Fury began, diverting the conversation to his desired course, "is there _anyone_ out there, anyone at all, who Loki would go to? He's desperate; he's tired. I don't care how unlikely it is ― if it's plausible, we need to consider it." He glanced at Hill, clicked his fingers, and pointed at the screen on the adjacent wall. "Agent Hill, get that picture up on the screen, please."

Hill muttered something into her mouthpiece, then directed a remote control at the screen. Immediately, it was filled with an array of images, all depicting Loki and a female companion under the shade of a large tree in Central Park. Loki appeared very much as he had the other times that the Avengers had seen him, with the exception of his bloodied and dishevelled look following his defeat. He stood, unarmed and yet with an imposing stance, and watching the happenings around him. However, the female stood with her back against the tree, in a casual, almost lounging state. Her arms were folded, and her sights were seemingly on the ground; she, unlike Loki, appeared entirely disinterested in her surroundings.

The images invoked a question from Thor, which he asked more to himself than anyone else. He approached the screen, scrutinising it with a great deal of intent, and with a clear sense of perturbation in his expression. His fingers instinctively twitched towards Mjolnir as a final realisation dawned upon him. Circumspect, he turned back to his team, and began to pace as Fury had been moments ago.

"My friends, this world is in a great deal of danger."

"Why?" asked Natasha tersely.

"Loki's companion," Thor replied, strain evident in his voice, "is the Fera. I would recognise that scar from the tales."

"The Fera?"

"Should've paid attention in Latin class, buddy," Tony said to Steve, giving him an idle pat on the shoulder. "The beast, right? She doesn't look that beastly to me." Pausing, he pulled a face. "Except that scar. Did this chick have a run-in with a lawnmower or something?"

"You would be wise not to make a mockery of the Fera," warned Thor. "That scar is what remains of her ties to this realm."

"That's nice. You know, most people just stop in at the gift shop and buy a snow-globe."

"_Stark_ ,"said Fury, casting a curt look in his direction. "How dangerous is this 'Fera'?"

"There is no being in this world, or any other, with a motive for a grudge as great as that of the Fera. And surely a fine choice for an ally, from Loki's standpoint. Unless she were to turn on him." Thor shook his head, glancing back at the images with distaste. "There were legends ― mortal legends, as well as those of my own people ― about the wrath of the Fera. You would not be the first have made a mockery of the beast of the Natura, Tony. That was the very reason for her exile. Her vengeance saw the death of hundreds. Ah!" He waved an agitated hand, and continued to pace. "But I do not _understand_!"

The screen flickered once more, as Hill again spoke into her mouthpiece and utilised the remote to summon numerous photographs of archaeological finds attesting the Fera. Some images depicted her as aberrant predators of the wild, and others as a human form with ludicrous features. She skipped through dozens, before arriving at a particularly melancholic painting from the seventeenth century, of a nude woman on the face of a cliff, her knees tucked up to her chest and her back to the full moon; her skin was scarred, and her face mostly covered by a curtain of matted hair.

Eight pairs of eyes sojourned on the screen for several moments, before Thor said, rather quietly, "My mother once told me that she was fond of the Fera, and pleaded her stay at the trial. But the Vanir could never see the Natura, not even with their gifts, and that unsettled them. In the end, they deemed the Fera too unpredictable to inhabit her own world."

"That's … a little sad," admitted Steve, and Bruce ― who had remained silent up until that point ― looked over at the Captain with an expression of discomfort. Steve met the look with wide eyes, and added a small, "Oh."

The others all turned to look at him, then, some frowning, whereas others appeared no more than simply curious. They each in turn glanced between the Captain and the doctor, before a mutual understanding surfaced. After a while, Thor took a few strides closer to Bruce, and clapped a hand down on his shoulder.

"I understand," he said, "that you will empathise with the Fera, but you must remember that she is _not_ human, nor was she ever. The Fera never existed for the benefit of mankind. You are not alike."

"Really? Uncontrollable anger that turns her into a monster? Because that sounds familiar."

Clint spoke up, "What if that's what Loki wants? The Hulk to identify with the Fera?" He ignored Banner's facial tic at the mention of his Mr Hyde. "Think about it for a second: the Hulk was the one to bring Loki down in Stark Tower ― I don't think he's going to get over having his ass handed to him like that. I mean ― excuse me, Dr Banner ― but the Hulk is _strong_; stronger than Loki. What if he wants the Hulk on his side, and he thinks that having the Fera with him is the way to do it?"

Nobody argued with Clint, not even Bruce. They simply lingered, in their designated places, and in complete silence; not because they needed to consider the possibility of this revelation, or to dissuade it in any way. Nobody argued with Clint, because there was no argument to be made. Nobody argued with Clint, because they were stunned ― perhaps even terrified ― by the thought of one of their greatest assets, potentially becoming their greatest threat.


End file.
